


A Change of Pace

by madridistagoblue



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux Lives, Domestic, Drinking to Cope, Gen, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, house arrest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25296088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madridistagoblue/pseuds/madridistagoblue
Summary: Living under house arrest, every day begins to feel the same. Hux prefers to spend his on the couch, reading his datapad with a glass of red wine. But when Poe suggests that Hux do domestic chores around the house, it leads to bigger arguments -- and more honest confessions -- than either of them bargained for.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40
Collections: Gingerpilot Week 2020





	A Change of Pace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gingerpilot Week 2020  
> Day 4: Domestic

The swish of the air-locked door opening had become something of Hux's alarm clock. Predictably, it was followed by the sound of boots clacking on the floor and the hum of an over-eager BB unit that was never far behind. Was it already 17:00 hours? Time was beginning to blur together ever since the days had grown longer. It was summer in their hemisphere, presumably. Hux couldn't remember how many suns were in Yavin IV's orbit, but they were tilting closer to one of them, at least. He ought to look it up, eventually. It wasn't as though he didn't have the time.

He set his datapad down on the caf table in front of the couch. Dameron was going to come over and greet him. For all the man's famed spontaneity, he kept up a certain routine, at least around Hux.

"Hey, I'm back!" Dameron called from another room. Hux waited, but neither Dameron nor the droid entered. Well, at least _something_ was different today. Hux took a sip from the glass of red wine perched in his left hand.

"A hard day at work?" Hux asked.

"Yeah, something like that." There was a certain exasperated, rough tone in Dameron's voice.

Something -- a stack of papers, perhaps -- roughly hit a table in the background. Something else fell to the ground.

"Kriff."

With a series of tones, the droid echoed Dameron's sentiment. Hux's knowledge of binary cursing was rusty, as First Order droids were not programmed to express such things, but _that_ he recognized clear enough.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing really planned for dinner," Dameron's voice called again, inching closer. "And I'm not really hungry at the moment."

"I see." Hux took another sip of his wine as Dameron finally appeared under the archway of the living room. "What is there for me to eat then?"

"I don't know," Dameron leaned into the archway and ran a hand through his hair. "Cook yourself something from the conservidor? Or get take-out? Whatever you do for lunch." He looked down at the floor, continuing to fuss absentmindedly with his hair.

"May I ask what happened?"

"Oh...nothing unusual," Dameron said, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Issues with a supplier, you know. Military business."

"None of my business."

Dameron shrugged, but his head nodded, betraying the casual posture.

"That's right," Hux finished for him and took another sip of his wine.

"And what have you been up to?" Dameron walked towards the couch, eyeing Hux and his glass of wine suspiciously. "How's your leg?"

Hux instinctively covered the black brace peeking out from underneath his robe. "I do my exercises," he scoffed.

"So, is this what you're going to do every day?" Dameron gestured to Hux, then to the couch more generally. "Sitting on the couch...in your robe...drinking?"

Hux looked him squarely in the eyes. "No, I thought I'd go outside and visit a cantina."

"You know that's not what I meant." Dameron shook his head.

"What? I quite like the robe," Hux said, looking down at the fuzzy black cloth. "It's not as nice as the one I had to leave on the Steadfast -- cheap fabric -- but it's comfortable. The wine, on the other hand, is fine quality. You have good taste...."

"Yeah, and I'm going to stop buying it if you don't stop drinking."

"You drive a hard bargain. I'd hate to be your military supplier." Hux raised his eyebrow.

Dameron didn’t bat an eye at the joke.

"I know it’s not really my place to tell you anything,” Dameron said, “but you've got to do something other than sit on that couch with your datapad all day."

"I stand up every 30 minutes to flex my leg."

"Don't you have any...hobbies...or interests...or anything?"

"Few that can be done while under arrest in your house, I'm afraid."

Dameron shot up his hands towards the ceiling. “Why not do something useful then?” He turned around, so his back was now to Hux.   
  
“Like what?”

“Well I don’t know!” Dameron exclaimed, turning to face Hux again. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his calm. "The basement needs to be cleaned. BB-8's charger port has been fraying. Maybe you know how to fix it? Or maybe you could hologram someone to come fix it? Or what about cooking dinner yourself? Instead of sounding annoyed when I come home from a hard day and don’t have the energy to cook?” He gestured to the kitchen, then crossed his arms sternly.

The BB unit rolled in chirping "lazy" at him in binary. So, this was what it was like to have a husband and son? Charming.

"I'm afraid I'm not very well versed in household chores.”

"Well, you live in a house now," Dameron said, gesturing around him. He shook his head, looking down at the BB unit and turning away. "Better get used to it," he muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me, Dameron!" Hux snapped, setting down the glass of wine. Dameron turned around. "I don't know anything about what you want done with your belongings in the basement. I have some experience with electrical equipment, but you never bothered to tell me that the socked was frayed. And I can fend for myself, but I can hardly cook to your standard of quality. It’s not exactly something they teach at Arkanis Academy!”

"Well, have you ever asked if I could use some help!? I've stuck out my neck for you -- risked my job and my rank and my respect to keep you alive and thank you for your help! I let you live in my house. I cook nice meals for us. I spend time with you, every day. And what do you do?"

"I behave!” Hux stated firmly, pushing himself into a standing position despite his injured leg. “I stay in the house all day like I’m required to. I don’t try to renegotiate the terms of my arrest, even though I’m bored out of my damn mind. I accept the legal authority of this New-New Republic. And I try to keep to myself and stay out of your life!”

Dameron’s eyes widened. “Hux…” he reached out an arm “…that’s not…”

“Look, Dameron. This is your house. Not mine. Your belongings. Your groceries. Your droid. You can't expect me to share the burden when there's nothing here that belongs to me. Nothing. Except for this datapad, and this kriffing bathrobe!" The last sentence came out louder than Hux intended, causing Dameron withdraw his outstretch hand and take a step back.

The BB unit rolled away without a further word.

Dameron’s eyes, however, stayed focused on Hux.

"It's all yours."

"What?"

"The stuff. In the house. I offered for you to live here while we get everything sorted out. That means it's your place too. Not mine. Clean it up. Mess around. Make me angry wondering where you put things. Make Beebee tease you for being freak about order. Cook a meal like you're my old-fashioned house husband. I don't care." Oddly, enough, the anger was gone from Dameron's face. He was frustrated, certainly, but his eyes looked tired and...sad? “I didn’t agree to bring you into my life so that you could stay out of it…”

"I can attempt to do my share, if that is what concerns you..."

"What concerns me is that you don't have a life, Hux! You sit on our couch getting drunk!"

Hux wasn't sure what was stranger about that sentence, the usage of "our" or the sentiment in general.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"I'm already worried about the Republic." Dameron ran his fingers through his hair again. A nervous habit, it seemed. "We don't have the resources to support suppliers who made all their money from the First Order. Our operation is large, but we have no imperial intentions. We can't pour the same budget into a fleet. But that's the reality of their business model nowadays. I have a lot on my mind. The last thing I need is to come home every day and worry about you."

"Don't worry about me. You've paid your debt. I'm here, aren't I? I'm alive."

"Barely, it seems."

"Because I don't do domestic chores?"

"Have you really never had any sort of domestic life at all? Cooking? Making the bed? Living on a planet, not in a Star Destroyer."

"I barely remember Arkanis, outside of the Academy" was all Hux chose to say. He hoped it would suffice.

Dameron's eyes fell. “Look…I’m sorry. This got out of hand, and I should apologize for raising my voice at you. I know that you saved my life – and Finn’s and Chewie’s -- and that’s part of why I negotiated to save yours. But this isn’t supposed to be some Bed and Breakfast prison, where you serve out the rest of your days in comfortable misery, just because I had a life debt. I made a choice to take you in. Could you respect my choice by giving me a chance to be…if not your family, then at least a friend?” 

Hux waited for Dameron’s eyes to focus back on him. They pleaded to him, with a sincerity Hux wasn’t used to seeing. He was used to being an inconvenience for those around him, at best.

“So…you don’t want me to do chores to make myself useful?”

Dameron shook his head. “I’m sorry for making it seem that way. I just want you to be real member of this house, with me and Beebee. I want this distance between us to stop.”

“I’m not sure, where to begin,” Hux admitted.

"Would you like me to show you what I was going to make for dinner? I could show you how to cook it."

Hux said nothing, but he nodded affirmatively. Today had certainly been different. He still didn't understand why Dameron was concerned with his well-being. But he was starving. And cooking would, perhaps, be a start to relieving his boredom.

Any change of pace to Hux’s monotonous days was welcome. And, despite himself, perhaps Dameron's soft hearted confessions were also very welcome.


End file.
